#douma x reader

The seclusion of your house feels much less comforting now, sitting on the very outskirts of your village that now makes you curse being such a recluse. 

Every creak of the old wooden house settling brings a startelement and the flickering flame that makes shadows dance along the walls tricks you into seeing a body that’s not there. 

Stalking wasn’t really something he liked to do but when the village he used as a food source started locking away their beauties, what was he to do? Your house was so conveniently along his path too, he meant to eat you sooner but how skittish you’ve become has been amusing to say the least. 

As much as you quake over the monster that terrorizes your town you still stay up so late, reading a book by the candlelight and biting at your thumbnail over whatever scene you’re reading captivates you. 

Your mannerisms and habits have caught Douma’s interest so he’s taken to watching you simply live, dwelling within your solitude. He finds it interesting how you rationalize the frost on your windows he creates to give some indication of his presence, looking at it in thought then writing it off as an off-season chill. He would think you were toying with him if you didn’t stiffen at the slightest noise out of place. 

Every creature he’s ever encountered was so dreadfully boring but he grows fond of this little dance you’re unknowingly a part of. Douma wants to accelerate the pace. How will you rationalize if your neighbors just up the street are discovered mutilated while your home is left untouched? It brings a twisted smile to his face the night he visits you and you vehemently refuse to leave your home. 

Do you count yourself lucky that your home was spared or think it coincidence? How many bodies does it take to shake you to your core? Douma counts five, one for every night of the week, oh he wishes he could’ve seen the look on your face when you’d heard all the women that surrounded you fell prey but somehow you were left safe. 

You don’t leave your home completely dark after that, is it because you think if you give the illusion that nobody's home your luck won’t run out? It’s almost laughable, oh how interesting he finds you. 

I think I’ll keep you, he thinks to himself when he finally comes from hiding, standing tall in the offensively tiny room of yours. He knows you’re awake, can hear your heart thundering in your chest while you hide under the covers. 

His footfalls are light but each floorboard creaks when he approaches your mattress, tugging away the covers with little resistance wearing a smile that actually meets his eyes for the first time. You shake like a leaf in turbulent winds until you see him for the first time. 

The monster that slaughtered your neighbors was only a man and one of the most beautiful you’d ever seen. It’s a sickening feeling that settles in your gut, the things he’s capable of and you can only think of the superficial. 

You flinch when the back of his hand strokes your cheek, making his lips part in a soft laugh. His nails are long but he’s careful not to knick your flesh, opening his mouth further to speak and revealing elongated canines that don’t belong to humans. 

“Expecting something else?” He questions like it’s obvious what you’re thinking, voice so smooth with a playful lilt that his touch feels almost comforting. Douma leans over you now, crouching next to your bed while he pets soothingly at your hair. You haven’t breathed a word, the silence stretching for what feels like hours. 

But that’s fine with him, he’ll draw out that voice he’s sure is just as beautiful as the rest of you. 

He tosses your covers away completely, leaving you only in the thin fabric of your sleeping robe; reaching to unfasten the knot that holds it together but your hand wraps around his wrist. He raises his eyebrows at the action, chuckling softly when he peels it away and crawls onto your bed. 

“If I wanted to hurt you,” he drawls slowly, watching as you crawl up your bed to lean against the wall, cornering yourself when he comes closer, “I already would have.”

If it was meant to be comforting you’ll never know, coming off as more of a threat while he touches your body, groping up your thighs. He’s splitting open the fabric in his venture upwards until you’re only covered by your hand bunching the parting fabric close to the apex of your thighs. Even then he coaxes your hand away, pushing your legs apart to reveal your slit, glistening with wetness when bathed in the sliver of moonlight that fills the room.

He gasps dramatically, wide smile on his face again when he moves to lean downward, keeping you from closing your legs by pressing one of his palms to your inner thighs. “I’ve waited long enough, be thankful it’s a different taste I want.” 

You whimper at his words, fresh tears stinging at the corners of your eyes when his face inches toward your cunt, the urge to close your knees together growing ever stronger until the tip of his tongue parts your folds. Both of your bodies tense, Douma gasping out, gripping both of your thighs so tightly his nails dig into your skin that earns a pained yelp that he pays no heed too. 

He lets out a groan, flattering his tongue completely to lick a long stripe up the expanse of your pussy, rolling his eyes at the taste of your essence. Your hips twitch when he passes over a protruding nub, licking over it again to earn the same reaction, smirking as he finds you trying not to enjoy it. 

He’s loud, embarrassingly so and it makes you want to cover your ears, sickened by how he slurps and groans between your thighs; you feel even worse that you’re drawing closer to climax the more he works at you. Your back arches, fingers coming to push at his head when the feeling grows stronger but he groans out, vibrations reverberating through your cunt and pushing you over the edge. 

The sound of your pleasured cry makes his shoulders slack, massaging at the backs of your thighs while he laps up your cum, sucking your lips before pulling away. His chin glistens when you finally focus on him, fixing your clothes and pulling you into his lap like this was some tender moment. 

Your body is stiff against him but Douma pays it no mind, petting your hair as he presses a kiss to your temple. It’s unbearably quiet for a long time before he breaks the silence, practically purring in your ear, “you taste so good.” 

It feels like eternity when he finally removes you from his lap, settling you back into your bed as he’d found you, cupping your cheek with a smile you find more sinister than sweet. 

“I’ll be back for you,” is all he whispers, leaving like he was a welcome guest with a promise to return. You feel even more on edge than when he first pulled the covers from you, rolling around in your bed until the sun rises and bathes your room in rays that don’t abate the cold emptiness you feel. 

There's a monster in your village but the cold chill of fear that he instills in his other victims doesn’t apply to you in the same way. He eats you too, devours you whole but never like the others, coming to you when he hungers carnally. You’re special, his favorite meal that satisfies him in ways no one else ever could, your screams in ecstasy music to his ears in contrast to the ones of horror he always elicits from others. 

The first time Upper rank two, Dōma pays attention to a couple isn't even because he's interested, it happens purely by chance.

He's sitting on a bench in the town square, absentmindedly rolling a coin between his fingers. The night stretches peacefully over the village, wrapped in a dark blanket torn apart only by the trembling glow of paper lanterns and the few oil lamps still burning outside the shops.

There are far too many people around him for his liking, children running back and forth, vendors calling out to advertise goods that probably nobody needs, and conversations blending together until they become one endless murmur.

It's boring, far too boring.

He's about to leave when something catches his attention, a young man buys a flower.

It doesn't look particularly beautiful. In fact, several of its petals are bent and the stem is slightly crooked, enough to make Dōma wonder why anyone would spend money on something so unremarkable.

The young man, however, doesn't seem to notice those little flaws at all. He leaves a few coins on the stall with a smile that's impossible to hide and, the moment the flower is in his hands, he runs toward a young woman waiting several yards away.

She doesn't even need to look at it properly for her whole face to light up. She accepts the flower with flushed cheeks before wrapping her arms around his neck in an embrace. Then they continue walking as though that exchange had been the most ordinary thing in the world, yet from where he's sitting, Dōma can't seem to look away.

He frowns slightly, unable to understand what he's just witnessed. The flower has no real value. Anyone could pick one just like it from a field without spending a single coin, and yet that young woman's expression had changed as though she'd just received the most extraordinary gift in the world.

But if there's one thing Dōma has learned from watching humans, it's that the best way to understand them is never by asking questions, it's by imitating them.

A slow smile spreads across his lips.

You aren't expecting any visitors that night. In fact, you're convinced you'll spend the rest of the evening completely alone.

You've just finished setting your gear down on the table when an icy breeze slips through the open window and a cold breath brushes against one side of your face.

"Hello, darling," Dōma murmurs with a small smile while you jump and instinctively reach for the hilt of your sword.

"Dōma! Warn me before you come in," you complain, pressing a hand to your chest, where your heart is pounding. "And please, use the door."

"Oh my, I'm sorry," he says, tilting his head, though he doesn't look sorry in the slightest. "I'll do that next time."

You can't help letting out a sigh before smiling, there's something about Dōma that keeps disarming you. His questions are strange, yes, and the way he watches other people can be unsettling at times, but you never sense any malice behind it. If anything, he seems like someone trying to solve a puzzle whose rules everyone understands except him.

You turn around, eager to take a long bath and wash away all the grime you've brought back from the mission you finished that very morning, when you hear a soft clearing of his throat behind you.

"Here."

Dōma awkwardly brings out the hand he'd been hiding behind his back without you even noticing.

You take the flower, confusion written all over your face.

You hold it between your fingers for a few seconds, turning it slightly as you study the bent petals. There's nothing special about it. It's an ordinary flower, the kind anyone could find at the very first stall in the market, and yet when you look back up at Dōma, you find him watching you intently.

"Thank you," you murmur, unable to hide the smile on your face. "But… why are you giving it to me?"

"Oh?" Dōma places a hand over his chest, his eyebrows shooting up. "Can't I give a flower to my beloved?"

"Dōma."

"Fine," he sighs dramatically, leaning against the wall. "I had an idea."

"That never ends well," you narrow your eyes, and Dōma flashes you an amused smile.

"This morning I saw a man buy a flower," he begins. You raise an eyebrow but stay silent, letting him continue. "It wasn't pretty, but he still gave it to the woman he was with, and she smiled before hugging him."

His gaze drops to the flower you're still holding between your fingers before slowly returning to your face.

"Humans are so foolish. They're satisfied with anything."

"Excuse me?" you snap, but Dōma raises a hand before you can continue.

"I just thought it was curious. The flower was something insignificant, and yet she smiled as though he'd given her the whole world." Dōma's rainbow eyes lock onto yours, stealing your breath away. "I wanted to see if you'd smile like that too."

You stare at him for a few seconds, completely bewildered, ignoring the blush warming your cheeks before a quiet laugh slips out through your nose.

"You're hopeless."

"So… does that mean it worked?"

A few days later, he does something else that completely disarms you, this time while the two of you are walking through the town center.

Beside you, Dōma walks with his hands tucked inside the sleeves of his haori, taking in everything around him with interest. The conversation, as always whenever you're with him, drifts wherever his latest whim takes it.

He swears the dog lying in front of the butcher's shop has exactly the same expression as the baker on the corner whenever someone asks him to lower the price of bread.

A few minutes later, he points at a particularly long cloud and insists it looks like a giant fish trying to swallow the moon.

Before you can answer, he changes the subject again to complain that someone painted a door blue even though the entire building is red and, according to him, "it completely ruins the harmony of the street."

You never know how he manages to connect one thought to the next, and you're not even sure he knows either.

Even so, you end up following the conversation with quiet laughs and resigned replies, because arguing with Dōma is almost always far more exhausting than simply agreeing with him.

That's when you feel the faintest brush against the back of your hand.

Dōma's fingers have just slipped carefully between yours. He gives your hand a light squeeze for a few seconds before continuing to walk as though he hasn't done anything out of the ordinary, and it wouldn't be out of the ordinary for most people, but Dōma isn't an affectionate person.

You keep walking for another couple of steps, far too surprised to do anything else, until you finally come to a stop in the middle of the street.

Dōma barely turns his head toward you, patiently waiting for you to speak.

"W-What are you doing?" you stammer, far too flustered to keep yourself under control.

His gaze drops to your intertwined hands.

"I saw a couple walking like this yesterday."

As he answers, he threads his fingers a little more securely through yours, studying the gesture with the same curiosity a child would have while taking apart a toy just to figure out how it works.

"You're still doing this?" you complain, even though your heart is racing.

"Of course, darling," he says with a cheerful smile. "You're my beloved."

You open your mouth to answer, only to fall silent. You're starting to hate how effortlessly he leaves you speechless.

Over the following weeks, the "experiments" continue.

One night, after returning from an especially long mission, you find him waiting for you, sitting on the wooden fence surrounding your house. He absentmindedly swings one leg while holding a small paper-wrapped package in his hands.

The moment he sees you approaching, he jumps down and holds it out toward you.

"For you."

You frown slightly before unwrapping the package, It's your favorite dessert.

"You saw that with another couple too?" you ask, surprised that he remembered something like that.

Dōma nods without the slightest hint of embarrassment.

"Yes."

He stays silent while watching your expression so intently you can almost feel the weight of his gaze resting on your face. He doesn't seem interested in the dessert at all. The only thing that matters to him is finding out whether the result will be the same as it was with the flower.

You end up smiling without meaning to, and he smiles too, confirming that the outcome is exactly the same.

Another day, the two of you are walking along a forest path when a gust of wind tosses your hair into disarray. You don't notice until you feel careful fingers brushing a strand away from your cheek.

You immediately look up, and Dōma pulls his hand back with a small smile that makes his eyes close.

Another day, the cold catches both of you off guard while you're walking through the village. Without warning, Dōma stops in front of you and reaches both hands toward your neck, making you flinch.

"What are you doing?" you murmur.

"Don't move."

With a level of concentration that seems completely unlike him, he straightens the scarf wrapped around your neck, smooths out one end that had folded over, and makes sure it's covering you properly again.

Dōma takes a step back to admire the result. "That's better."

One day, this whole situation of being Dōma's guinea pig becomes a problem.

You've grown used to finding him waiting for you whenever you come back from a mission, to listening to one of his ridiculous observations while the two of you wander aimlessly hand in hand, to him showing up with a flower, a dessert, or some other completely unexpected little gift simply because, according to him, "a couple did the same thing the other day."

And the touches, those damned touches.

The way his fingers seek out your cheek to wipe away the tiniest speck of dirt, the habit he's developed of brushing his knuckles against your face whenever he manages to make you laugh, the absentminded circles his fingertips trace over the back of your hand while you walk together, even the way he's started resting a hand against the small of your back every time you cross a crowded street, as though he's afraid of losing you in the crowd.

Dōma is only trying to understand humans. He isn't doing any of it because it comes naturally to him.

You try to repeat that to yourself over and over every time your heart skips a beat when he threads his fingers through yours or leans in to brush a strand of hair away from your face with a gentleness you never would've expected from someone like him.

As soon as he finds the answer he's looking for… he'll stop asking you questions, and once he stops asking you questions, he'll stop bringing you flowers, stop holding your hand, stop waiting for you after your missions, and stop stroking you affectionately whenever he gets the chance.

You don't know if you're ready for when that day comes.

The path leading to the shrine is completely deserted.

At this hour of the night, the only sounds are the murmur of the wind drifting through the treetops and the soft crunch of gravel beneath your footsteps. The stone lanterns lining the path cast a faint glow over the steps, enough to paint your long shadows between the torii gates leading to the main shrine building.

With Dōma, silence has gradually become something unusual. The two of you walk side by side while he absentmindedly observes the shrine, the paper streamers swaying in the breeze, and the wooden prayer plaques where worshippers leave their written wishes. You, on the other hand, are only aware of him.

"I don't understand why we pray so much to a deity that doesn't exist," your voice breaks the silence without warning.

Dōma lifts his gaze toward a small row of ema gently swaying beneath the shrine's roof.

"Because they like believing someone's listening."

"And does that work?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"It doesn't matter whether it works," he says, pausing briefly as he runs his tongue across his lips. "They just need to believe it will. Humans like taking shelter in that whenever they want to escape pain."

Dōma falls silent, simply watching the wooden plaques for a few seconds before starting to walk again. You follow without saying anything, letting the silence settle between you once more.

When you reach the highest point of the shrine, you decide to stop. From there, most of the town stretches out below you, dotted with tiny lights that are still glowing despite the late hour. The air is colder here, and a gentle breeze stirs a few loose strands of your hair.

You rest your forearms against the wooden railing, and Dōma comes to stand beside you. It doesn't take him long before he turns his face toward you.

"The way you're looking at me is starting to worry me," you say, unable to bear the silence.

The corner of his lips curves ever so slightly. "Which way?"

"That way," you reply, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye with a faint frown.

When you finally gather the courage to meet his gaze, he's looking at you exactly the same way as before. There's no trace of the teasing smile he usually wears when he's trying to get under your skin, nor that childlike look that's always accompanied by endless questions.

A knot slowly forms in your throat, there's something in his eyes that makes your skin prickle.

He looks vulnerable.

Beneath the silver light of the moon, his eyes seem to lose any resemblance to those of a human being. The colors melt into one another as though someone had spilled paint across his irises, catching flashes of pink, gold, and turquoise every time the breeze stirs the branches overhead.

They're beautiful eyes, unreal, so mesmerizing that it's easy to forget they belong to a demon capable of painting an entire forest with blood.

A creature for whom you're betraying the Demon Slayer Corps.

"Are you going to answer me?" you ask almost in a whisper, unable to stop your hands from trembling.

"You're very beautiful."

Your lips part slightly, once again unable to find an answer ever since this whole madness began. For weeks you've learned to trace the origin of every one of his gestures, but this time, you can't.

The compliment hangs between the two of you, as fragile as the silence that follows it.

Dōma doesn't look away, the moon continues reflecting in his eyes, making their colors shift with every slight movement of his head. The pink fades into gold, then an almost crystal-blue appears, one you've never noticed so clearly before. He's beautiful, painfully beautiful.

You wonder how many people have died staring into those same eyes without ever realizing they were the last thing they'd see in their lives, and yet right now, you can't find even the slightest trace of cruelty in them.

Your heart pounds so hard against your chest that you wonder if he can hear it too, he probably can, demons hear everything.

You lower your gaze for a moment, unable to endure that intensity any longer. Before you can gather your thoughts, though, you feel cold fingers slipping beneath your chin.

Dōma gently tilts your face back up with a tenderness that contradicts the strength you know he possesses.

"What's wrong?" you ask, your voice coming out far shakier than you'd intended.

He takes a few seconds before answering. His eyes deliberately wander across every corner of your face, as though he's trying to memorize it.

"I had an idea," he says, just like he did that night weeks ago.

"That never ends well," you joke weakly, playing along.

The shadow of a smile briefly crosses his lips before disappearing almost as quickly as it came.

"No," he says, slowly shaking his head. "This time it's different."

His thumb absentmindedly brushes along the line of your jaw in slow caresses that send butterflies fluttering through your stomach.

Dōma's gaze slowly drops to your lips.

"You're very beautiful," he repeats, this time in a quiet voice.

"You already said that," your lips begin to tremble beneath Dōma's attention.

"It's not enough, darling."

His lips find yours with an almost reverent slowness, as though even in that final moment Dōma is still wondering why he feels the need to do it. You've kissed Dōma far too many times to be surprised by a gesture like this.

You know the coldness of his lips, the faint sweet scent that always seems to linger around him, and the carefree way he leans down whenever he feels like stealing a kiss from you.

But this kiss isn't like any of the others.

It's not one of those absentminded kisses while he calls you "darling" with that insolent smile, it isn't one of those fleeting kisses he shares with you before disappearing among the trees as effortlessly as he arrived, nor is he trying to make you react or see what expression you'll make afterward.

Dōma lingers against your lips for a moment that seems to stretch far longer than it should, motionless at first, as though that simple contact alone is enough to quiet every thought that's been stirring inside him for weeks. Then he deepens the kiss.

His thumb strokes your cheek while his lips move against yours with a gentleness that slowly unties the knot that had been tightening around your chest.

Your fingers end up clutching the collar of his haori, while Dōma's leave your cheek to carefully slide down to your waist. His touch is still cold, but it no longer startles you.

His mouth parts yours as his tongue slips inside, turning the kiss into a scorching one that draws a soft moan from your lips. With insulting ease, as though you weigh absolutely nothing, he lifts you off the ground. The movement is so smooth that you barely have time to let out a small gasp before finding yourself sitting on the shrine's wooden railing.

He immediately steps between your legs to keep you from losing your balance.

Dōma tilts his head and finds your lips again and again, like a thirsty man incapable of pulling away from the only source that can quench his thirst.

When you're finally running out of air, you're the one who breaks the kiss just enough to take a shaky breath.

Dōma remains in front of you, still far too close, one hand resting on your waist while the other is still caressing your cheek, as though he'd forgotten to pull it away.

His white hair, always immaculate, has become slightly tousled from the wind and from your own fingers, which are still gripping the collar of his haori. A few loose strands fall across his forehead, casting soft shadows that soften his features.

His rainbow eyes are just as beautiful beneath the moonlight, but now they seem darker, deeper, like the surface of a lake after someone has thrown a stone into it and the last ripples are beginning to fade.

Dōma's lips are slightly parted, faintly flushed after your long kissing session.

He looks so beautiful that it steals your breath away.

"I think I was wrong," Dōma says, his voice rough enough to send a shiver down your spine.

"About what?" you murmur, still dazed from the kisses.

"I thought I was learning how people in love behave," his hand slowly leaves your cheek to find yours. "But it's been a long time since I needed to watch other couples."

Your heart skips a beat. "Dōma…"

"I don't watch what they do anymore, it's boring." His eyes return to yours. "All I think about is wanting to do those things with you."

Tears blur your vision as all the weight that's been building on your chest for weeks suddenly disappears.

Dōma tilts his head in confusion. "Are you crying?"

A shaky laugh escapes you through your tears.

"You're an idiot…" you murmur so affectionately that the words lose any intention of sounding like a reproach.

Before he can ask why, you close the little distance still separating the two of you and bury your face against his chest, wrapping your arms tightly around him. Dōma goes completely still, surprised, before cautiously wrapping his arms around you in return.

"Ah," slips from Dōma's lips. "This is… interesting."

His chin slowly comes to rest on top of your head, and you let out a small sound of confusion.

"I used to think it was silly that you smiled whenever I did things like this," he says, his eyes remaining fixed on the darkness surrounding the shrine. "Now I'm the one doing it."

Ever since the big meet up for the upper rank demons ended, the first thing that Lord Muzan does is call you and Douma up to his quarters.

This can't be good.

"I have only one task for you two specifically. I need a cake done by evening," Muzan explains his narrow red eyes don't leave the notebook he's writing on. He tears out a sheet of paper and hands it to you. "I think i can trust you two to complete it thoroughly, right?"

The way he accentuated 'thoroughly' rang alarm bells in your head, causing you to quietly yelp as a hint of blush crept up your face. You knew exactly what Muzan was talking about. Suddenly, a fan unfolds right in front of your face as Douma chuckled at your little reaction before facing Muzan, "Pardon me Lord Muzan but what makes you think we can't finish this miniscule kitchen task?"

Muzan's frown sours, "Don't play coy, Upper Two. You and your significant other are prone to getting so distracted from each other that anything around you doesn't seem to matter. If you want, I can go over the last two times this has happened if you don't remember."

The both of you went silent. Douma's trademark smirk lessened as he continued to wave his fan towards your warm face until you bring it down gently with one hand. "He has a point." you quietly admit, looking up at your boyfriend. The demon sighs and closes the fan.

"If i have to renovate the kitchen again, i won't hesitate to punish you both in some way." Muzan sneers, voice darkening, "now then, get going. Don't fail me."

And with a snap of his fingers, you two were instantly transported to the big kitchen in Muzan's castle. It's a little brighter than his lab and had more of a muted white pallette with some parts black for the appliances. The first thing that you remember is the good times that you had with all the 6 upper demons before Daki and Gyutaro were offed. And then your eyes scanned to the certain spots where Douma and you got freaky while either something was burning or boiling over. You had to stop forming the mental images of that before you started to blush again.

Maybe Muzan is right, you really need to build some resistance.

A beautifully clawed hand rests on your shoulder as Douma peeks over at the sheet of paper in your grasp. " 'Blood-Red Desire Cake', huh? Sounds delicious to me~" he comments, licking his lips close to your ear. Too close. A shiver courses down your spine as a shaky exhale slips out but you cut it off with a deep inhale through your nose as you take the demon's big hand to clasp in both of your hands and then looking into Douma's rainbow eyes.

"Douma, baby. You know I believe in us, right? Lord Muzan needs this cake done without any..distractions. So what I need from you is to dial down the innuendos or anything that you know makes me malfunction. Do you think you can do that?" you ask in a soft tone, smiling as you did so. Douma returns your smile back as he crouches down to pat your head. "I'll try my best, dear lotus~"he answers almost like a croon, "but the same applies to you as well, you know.". The demon giggles, sauntering past you.

You let out a small sound of shock, "Hey, I just don't want to be the next head on Lord Muzan's chopping block."

Sigh. This is not gonna be easy for you. At all.

You saw the deception through Douma's eyes and it was as rich as his own demonic blood..

Four items were set before you on the marble counter. A box of red velvet cake mix, red food coloring, white icing, and a small tube of fake edible blood. Not sure where Muzan got that from but you weren't going to question it. At least it's not real. Flipping over the cake mix box, you scan over the instructions. "Okay, so what do we need here?" you speak to yourself. An arm drapes across your shoulders as Douma inserts himself into your own self convo,"Well from what it says here-" he cuts himself off and blows on the shell of your ear. Your grip on the box hardens,teeth baring trying to hold yourself from biting your lip.

"Douma, we just talked about this. You know how that gets me.". The demon laughs, soft and airy enjoying the response you gave him as you wanted to die on the spot from that one action.

"Alright, i'll stop. For now, let's get to work, yeah?"

Soon enough, things started off smoothly. As you read the instructions Douma assembled the ingredients for you to combine (along with some lingering touches here and there). You hook the mixing bowl into the mixer and turn it on. On another counter, Douma was starting to mix the red coloring into the icing. "So exactly how red does Lord Muzan want the icing to be?"

Walking over to his side you look into the bowl, clicking your tongue in thought, "...maybe like his eyes,or your shirt or if we're really going to detail," you whisper, "the blood of your victims."

Douma's head turns to you ,eyes dilating in desire as his voice immediately drops at a sultry tone.

"Ooh~now that's a very naughty visual. Coming from you of all people~" he purrs, his top fangs biting his lower lip . Oh, how you wanted to kiss him so bad from that sight alone. But you had a better idea..

If he's going to be insufferable, you're going to be too.

With that, you take a small swipe of icing from the bowl and smeared it on Douma's jawline and took a slow, sexy lick of it off of his face. His movements completely stopped.

For the first time you actually saw the platinum blonde demon flush for a second and you couldn't help to giggle like a gremlin at him. Next thing you know is that Douma shoved his tongue into your mouth in a way that made your stomach do a whole flip. The cult leader's tall stature cages you as he continues to taste the sweetness of the frosting that lingered on your tastebuds. As much as you didn't want it to end, you forcibly pull away from the messy kiss, lightly panting as pink already begun to spread from your cheeks to your ears.

"..mm~ you taste delicious, my dear. so bold, im almost glad you stopped me, hehe. But aren't we forgetting something?" Douma inquires, his thumb pointing to the still-active mixer on the opposite counter still beating the cake mix.

"Oh, shit! "you swore under your breath, just about pushing the demon out of the way to turn the appliance off. You look at the bowl and thankfully the mix hasn't liquified yet. Blowing a sigh of relief, you slump against the edge of the counter, all while Douma witnessed your clumsy scrambling, wearing that shit eating smirk.

"Y'know what's funny, you saying you want no distractions, but yet you still walk right into them," he teases in that silky sing-song tone, "Are you even trying? Although, i get it, I am irresistible.". The demon combs his birch colored hair back with one hand in a cocky manner while one hand perched on his hip. Your hands clench into fists out of frustration, he's lucky he's right or you would have punched Douma in the face already for being so full of himself.

"Alright Douma, i'll let you go with that one but mark. my. words. From now on, i'm going Akaza mode on your ass! We are going to get this damn cake done, so try what you will, it won't affect me anymore." you declare, mentally putting your foot down. Your eyes baring into your lover's rainbow ones, sending a message that you weren't playing around.

Douma had to stifle a chuckle but ended up half bent over laughing, sounding almost half insane.

"Ha, ha..'Akaza mode' huh? Oh I'm shaking~" Douma remarks, pretending to be scared.

So expected from your boyfriend. Only because there is no way you can resist him but you'd be damned if you were to try..

The next few minutes of preparation of mix to cake pan along with the red icing were done in dead silence. Douma was at your side on the same counter now, intentionally challenging you with long dreamy stares with slow blinks in between. You return some of them back but only for a second before focusing on your work. He hated to admit it, but he was starting to feel a bit..annoyed from the lack of attention. Meanwhile, you were fighting for your life, reaching into the deepest parts of your mind, attempting to think about things outside the subject of your boyfriend.

Once you got the mixture into the oven, you head to the big white sink that looked like Muzan bought it out of a horror movie set but a little more modern.

Now, there it was.

Douma's chance to pounce on you.

No way you can sense him from behind. Maybe he could really break you if he'd graze his fangs across your neck or he could press his body against you? Oh, the devilish ideas were really starting to spur the demon on. Douma reaches out..

But little did he know, he went for the obvious move you predicted.

Immediately you felt the gap between you and Douma's hand about to come in contact with your shoulder. So instead of giving him the opportunity, you snatch the side hose, spun around and pulled the trigger.

"Back up!" you shout, spraying Douma in the face with water, who reacted a little too late to shield himself when his back collides with the marble top. After wiping the excess water off his face, he takes notice of your defensive stance, hose at the ready as if he dared to move again. That fiery speed, your serious, steely gaze, your chest raising and falling as you steadily breathe..yep, he almost saw the third uppermoon demon's spirit inside of you. And of course to Douma, it made him forget to theatrically act out and instead be elated by your newly developed resistance.

"Oh wow. You sure weren't lying about your 'Akaza mode', that..was amazing!" Douma expressed, then his lips form a fake pout ,"aw, but now i'm drenched from head to toe~" He pinches a section of his top that now hugged his arm.

As well as the rest of his body...

In which your eyes could not pry off of now that Douma's now wet compression shirt clung to each intricate muscle of him. From his collarbone all the way down to his abs. Confusion was etched upon Douma's features but as he looks down and then up at you, it dissipated fast. Pale eyelids lower as his rainbow irises darkened with realization. The demon's smile widens much so that you can make out his fangs coming into view.

"You're staring little lotus~ you like what you see?" Douma asks in a flirty tone, arms resting on the counter in a way that presented his body more to your vision. It's so unfair how he can be this hot sometimes and this time..

You caused it to be this way.

You turn away from Douma, grumbling under your breath as heat crept up your face once more.

Keep it together..

"Hey~don't hide from me now,", Douma taunts, "it was fun seeing you all tough thinking you could resist me this whole time. It's cute really..". Suddenly you feel the embrace of the demon's two strong arms around your waist as he starts to sway you with him idly.

"Look at me.." the demon softly urges. Soon, you tilt your head up at Douma and he presses a kiss to your forehead, trailing more feathery kisses to your cheek and further down until he paused at your neck. Instantly your heart races. Douma's breath fans across your neck, tantalizing and warm. "D-Douma-dono..please.." you stammer, trying to not sound nervous. But it doesn't fool your demon boyfriend in the slightest. In fact, he continues the torture by gliding his fangs across the sensitive skin, earning him a whine out of you.

"ah~now that's what I like to hear but watch how you use that title in here as it's taking every ounce of me not to-"

ding!

Both of your heads snap to the oven, the noise cutting the tension quick.

"Are you gonna get that? or do you want me t--"

"I got it, don't go anywhere." Douma insists. He grabs the oven mitts from the handle of the black appliance and opens it up. He pulls out the pan revealing the perfectly baked and appetizing red velvet cake. For once you and your partner have successfully made something in the kitchen without getting lost in each other.

"Well, won't you look at that? We actually created something edible without charring it." you smiled proudly at your boyfriend.

"We sure did, sure don't want my beautiful cells torn to shreds. Remember, this is for Lord Muzan."

Douma sets the pan on the stovetop portion of the oven and then takes off the mitts. "By the way, doesn't this need to cool down in order to ice it?" the demon asks.

"Uh, yeah why--oh!"

As fast as the response fell out of your mouth, Douma has already lifted you up and sat you on the nearest empty counter. Cold lips quickly become warm as he nibbles on your mandible, making you shiver and gasp. The blood from your brain leaves as you feel that familiar heat in your lower abdomen as Douma's hands now wander, his nails ghosting everywhere, all over the curves of your waist and then sharply groping your hips.

Willingly, you let go of the last of your resistance when Douma kisses you hard. His tongue snakes it's way into your mouth again but more passionate than rough. Douma's hands slide from your hips and hook onto the undersides of your thighs, pulling you closer to his body. Your legs instinctively wrap around the demon's waist, already feeling his prominent bulge of his crotch rubbing against your clothed core.

"There's no need to resist anymore, my lotus~" Douma coaxes, his silky voice almost hypnotizing. Your breathing hitches heavy, heart pounding against your ribcage so hard that your demon boyfriend can probably hear it. Arms frozen at your sides, unable to decide if you want to claw at his back or wrap around his neck.

Fuck it.

You couldn't help but moan into the kiss, your arms raveling around Douma's neck. After a few more minutes of making out and grinding on your boyfriend, you pull away. Those rainbow orbs shone of only mirth now as he affectionately bites your lower lip.

"Y'know..there is one thing that we haven't done in here yet~" Douma purrs as he kneels down between your thighs,his face now at a dangerous proximity from your panties. With a singular nail he pulls them down, revealing your glistening folds coated with your arousal. The scent of you invades Douma's senses, a wave of heat shoots through him as he lets out a shaky moan. "mmh~ so good for me, now let me hear you beg, yeah?" the demon smirks and then licks a big wet stripe up your slit while his eyes stared at your face twisting in pleasure.

Wonderful

"~oh gods, please Douma-dono..need you so bad~" you pleaded desperately as your boyfriend peppered kisses and bites on the columns of your thighs.

"Trust me, i'm going to do you how we did on one of the lower rank demons' graves." Douma lustfully growls against your cunt, the vibration sending a jolt up your spine. The demon dives in without no hesitation, flatboarding his tounge on your clit before it breached into your needy hole. Instinctively, you roughly card your fingers through Douma's plantinum blonde locks as he eats you out like he was on Muzan's blacklist. Your upper half doubles over in pleasure while mewling out your boyfriend's name uncontrollably.

Sure, you knew he ate your kind but god, Douma works magic between your legs like it's nothing. Wet and obscene squelching noises can be heard now,a blessing to Douma's ears as always. He palms his aching erection as he happily drinks you from the source.

Circles, Zig-zags, even figure eights. Each new motion Douma performs inside of you brings you to a higher arc of ecstasy, only to be let back down slowly. The coiling sensation in your core was beginning to unravel and fast.

"Fffuck Douma~ ", you groaned, "don't stop,baby~"

Douma moans into your hole, multi-colored eyes rolling up to his head from the way his name lewdly sung from your lips.

The way your cunt kept fluttering and sucking his tongue back in had Douma completely pussy-drunk on you. The pace that started out sensual becomes unrelenting and feral. The demon's large hands now abandoned his member and rose up to pry your plush thighs open more. Pale blue nails nearly break your skin, but the slight pain only makes you wetter. Douma shoves his face in further than its ever been, his nose now bumping into your clitoris, tongue just tasting and dragggiing that sweet spot in your walls that has your legs trembling and your grip on his scalp tighten. Moans and whimpers were the only sounds that came out coherent, only because the demon proceeded to edge you, pulling back to suck on your sensitive nub.

"..close already? aw~ poor thing,bet you wanna cum do 'ya?" Douma teases in mock-pity at you, then goes back to french kissing your slit. You double over again before you tip your head back as you curse, feeling your boyfriend smirk in the apex of your thighs.

Minutes for what seemed like hours pass by you're about near humping face as soon as your climax washes over you. A silent cry escapes from you as your cunt gushes all onto the demon's mouth, letting only a little dribble down his chin. Finally, he withdraws his tongue from you, followed by a pop. Lightly panting, Douma notices that his own release has already happened, considering that the sweet ache in between his legs faded away. And now being literally "soaked" in other terms, but he wasn't bothered one bit.

"Holy..fuckin'..moly.." you huffed, followed by a tired giggle, "you're such a hot mess, you know that?"

The demon nuzzles his face against your thigh, humming in adoration.

"All for you my dear lotus~" Douma whispers, his fingers tracing lazy shapes into the skin. Content silence falls upon the kitchen, the both of you relax in the effect of your afterglow..

"By the way..where are my panties?"